A Twist In Our Story
by xTie on Wings
Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from. An AU twist to the Big A Reveal slowly developing from a one-shot into a story of its own.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to man an end is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from. An AU twist to the Big A Reveal.

_.- -" "- -._

(… .(_\\.../_)… )

{ _"…=-… }- - - - - -{.. .-=…"_}

xTieOnWings  
presents  
-A Twist in Our Story  
A Pretty Little Liars Fan-Fiction

{_.."… … … … … … …""(_}

Heavy clouds scattered across the early morning sky, illuminated by the glow of the rising morning sun. A bird's cry sounded off in the distance, echoing the sleepy little town of Rosewood. It was hard to believe in such a peaceful state, the chaos that had unfolded the night before. A troubling conclusion to the manhunt- a manhunt of a monster that'd been terrorizing this tiny town causing parents to fear for their children and turmoil to spread like wildfire- seemed to make everything more fine-tuned. The mundanity of the sun and its inevitable warm rays seemed more beautiful, more vibrant. The birds scattering across the sky hold more of a melodic tune. Everything seemed artistically beautiful in its own right.

Everything was right in the world and everyone could move on.  
Just like they wanted them to.

While most basked in their morning's peaceful splendor, Rhys Matthews had a job to do. The Carissimi Group had been brought down due to the revelation that their leader had been a deranged psychopath, which he found ironic because all they did was clear the way for the real psychopath to flourish. Hearing the unmistakable chime of the elevator doors behind him, the hybrid of Christian Grey and Jason DiLaurentis known as Rhys turned as his new boss as he made his way over to him.

"The plan worked, perfectly," he stated, the coolness of his tone showing that he'd seen the chaos of the night before like any other business transaction. "The charges were pressed against 'Charlotte DiLaurentis' and now she's being prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Everyone thinks it's all over. And whatever you did to CeCe Drake, it seems to have stayed in tact."

His boss brushed past him taking his seat at the helm of his latest venture, lounging in his office chair for the cooperation he'll build on the rubble that was now the Carissimi Group. Oh well, he knew he'd have to sacrifice a few chess pieces if he wanted to win the game… And he would.

"Excellent," he acknowledged, a sinister smirk twinging at the edge of his lip.

It truly was the perfect plan. He knew the moment he was given CeCe Drake as a patient, he'd come across a real gem, a diamond in the rough he'd be able to bend to his will with ease. Cecilia Drake was an orphan admitted to Radley suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder, which predisposed her to being susceptible to taking on the persona he wanted. He embedded it in the blonde. She was Charles DiLaurentis… only she wasn't.

He was.

"Things seem to be unfolding perfectly, Rhys," Charles started, the gravely baritones of his voice shifting to a cut-glass English accent. "Let's make sure that it stays that way. Tie up loose ends. Eliminate Ms. Drake. Make sure anyone that could poke holes in her story is six feet under."

With an affirmative nod, Rhys moved into action, "Right away, Mr. DiLaurentis."

 _Mr. DiLaurentis_. He let the title roll around his brain with delight. It was one of the few things he actually told CeCe that was the truth; he'd longed to be a DiLaurentis again… he had always just wanted his family back. To be a DiLaurentis but that was the thing. He wasn't a DiLaurentis. He never was. Like Jason, Charles had been a product of Mrs. D's infidelity, the bastard spawn of a sorted affair. Maybe that's why he so hard to push the pieces of the puzzle together and make them fit. He wanted to be a part of the family so bad, but if the fiasco taught him anything, it was that Kenneth would never accept him as his son so he was done trying.

"Oh, and Rhys," he calls out, stopping the young business man before he could board the elevator. "From now on call me Wren. Wren Kingston."

xXx

Debating on whether or not to leave this as a one-shot,  
or not,  
so if you want more of this little fic,  
I'll clue you in on a little trick.  
All you gotta do,  
is take the time to review!


	2. Chapter Two: Drowning

Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to man an end is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from. An AU twist to the Big A Reveal.

_.- -" "- -._

(… .(_\\.../_)… )

{ _"…=-… }- - - - - -{.. .-=…"_}

xTieOnWings  
presents  
-A Twist in Our Story  
A Pretty Little Liars Fan-Fiction

{_.."… … … … … … …""(_}

Chapter One: Drowning

He was drowning, tumbling into an abyss of nothingness and he loved it because in the depths of nothingness, he found peace. He had questioned how deep he was willing to dive, questioned if should flood his veins with a lethal dose but couldn't actually bring himself to do it. Because even though he hated himself and everything that happened to him with every fiber of his being, Jason DiLaurentis couldn't bring himself to leave Alison. She'd already lost enough.

So Jason lay boneless across the couch- head tipped over the armrest with his eyes closed- settling for enough, just enough to pull himself into nothingness and forget. Forget that his parents hid the existence of his brother to him, leading him to believe such a huge part of his life was a fabrication of his imagination, that his father wasn't his biological father, his first love was actually his transgender brother… or was it sister… sick was what it was. That's all he knew for certain. His life was one sick, twisted, fucked up lie after another. The full effect hadn't yet hit. He was still able to carry out cognitive thought. Never crossing certain lines. The way she was always abandoning him for Alison. That she came back to Rosewood even after Alison "died". He mentally catalogues evidence of the betrayal, each fact burning worse than the last. But they didn't hurt as bad as the things that didn't make sense. Like how his mom knew CeCe was Charles. He remembered introducing the two and swears there was no spark of recognition. How could she have been okay with it? How could she do a lot of the things she did?

He clenches his eyes tighter hoping his current state of self-induced stupor would intensify to a place where he was free from the thoughts that haunt him. He enjoyed that the stimulants finally allowed for his sensitivity to shift. He feels the microfiber of the couch against his skin and tries to focus on the feeling of each fiber accumulating, but another distraction emerges he didn't want in the form of an opening and closing of the door. His breath hitched, an audible gasp filling the air as he forced his eyes open.

"Jason," a voice called through the darkness, soft and sweet.

A small smile encompasses his lips as his mind transforms the voice into an angelic chorus. It was divine, the eternal heavenly salvation he desperately wanted causing gorgeous green to flicker open and take in the angel that hung overhead with a halo of light surrounding her. And the longer he stares up at the girl overhead he believes it to be true, because through the haze, he knew who he saw. Alison. It was hard for him to believe once upon a time he held such distain for the girl, that he once actually wished her dead especially since she was all he was living for now. His gaze was met by a mixture of sadness, fear, sympathy, and anger but there was nothing but love and an unwavering gentleness in her touch as she brushed back bangs that'd been matted to his forehead.

"What're you doing to yourself."

It was a trembling whisper from her lips but he heard it as if she'd yelled it.

"M'sorry, Ali cat," he murmurs tilting his head into the blonde's hand.

And he was.  
And so was she.

But there was nothing either could do about it tonight.

xXx  
If you want more of this little fic,  
I'll clue you in on a little trick.  
All you gotta do,  
is take the time to review!  
xxx

Author's note: Not the longest chapter but I figured I owed those of you who took the time to review. Thank you


	3. Chapter Three: Poetic

Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from. An AU twist to the Big A Reveal slowly developing from a one-shot into a story of its own.

_.- -" "- -._

(… .(_\\.../_)… )

{ _"…=-… }- - - - - -{.. .-=…"_}

xTieOnWings  
presents  
-A Twist in Our Story  
A Pretty Little Liars Fan-Fiction

{_.."… … … … … … …""(_}

WARNING BEFORE READING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND CHARACTER DEATH READ AT OWN RISK!

Chapter Three: Poetic

[Three weeks later]

The sky was a bleak, dreary, gray threatening to open at any second and spew out a torrential downpour. If he believed that his wife had actually made it into heaven, Kenneth DiLaurentis would have thought that the torrential storm impending was her doing. After all, she did have a flare for the dramatics and the death of their son accompanied by hellacious weather was so very her.

And apparently it was another thing that Charles… CeCe- God it was still nearly impossible to wrap his head around- had in common. The night before Kenneth was dragged from a dead sleep by the call of the latest asylum CeCe had been admitted to informing him that she had taken her life in a way to mirror the death of Marion Cavanagh, the one she'd been so wrongly accused of and sealed her fate as a long-term resident of Radley. _Poetic_. That's the word, she used before she jumped according to the incompetent orderly that she'd tricked to get onto the roof in the first place.

Pitiful was more like it.

Kenneth smacked an open hand against the window pane to snap himself from the spiral of thoughts that'd send the father of three catapulting deeper into an abyss of depression than he'd been fighting to claw his way out of. He tried to pretend to be unaffected by all that Charles had done, tried to seem indifferent as his family imploded from within but he was failing. That was the real reason Kenneth hadn't told Alison and Jason of their siblings death. They'd finally started inching their way towards normalcy. Jason had finally gone to rehab and an impending relapse wasn't something Ken was looking forward to. And Alison… His youngest had suffered the most but she was finally… finally sleeping through the night, not constantly jumping at shadows and was able to breathe again.

So he'd suffer this burden alone. The sins of the father wouldn't weigh down on the children any longer.

Letting out a huff, the dishonored father pulled his jacket off the back of the shabby motel chair and slipped it on readying himself to face the storm that'd certainly break out the moment he set foot outside the door. But he never made it. The moment Ken pulled the knob and pulled the door open, he was greeted by the burning sensation of a sharp instrument pricking his skin. He flinched at the surprise of the sting, horror dancing in his eyes as he collapsed backwards into a heap. His eyes began to water, his vision smudging into a blurry mess.

But there was no mistaking a man cloaked beneath a black hood stepping forward into the room and shutting the door behind him…

xXx

A thumping ache penetrated through his shattered mind, reaching the far corners of his brain. Groggy and unwell, Ken found himself finally starting to come around. Breathing in a whoosh of tired air, he tried to force his eyelids open but found his other senses first. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. His ear became alert first, the sound of water splashing into a larger amount. The repetitive sound was a focal point as he brain crept towards alertness. Senses one by one came to, the most damning the feeling of his body submerged in the liquid depths, the cool porcelain of the bathtub against the back of his head. An adrenaline spike sends his eyes shooting open and he tries to scream but finds that there's a leather gag stopping his efforts.

Taken against his will… it was becoming a far too familiar experience.

And it wasn't the only thing familiar. The room he found himself in was an exact copy of the bathroom off of Alison's nursery when she was a baby, down to the prints of colorful cartoon fish on the wall beside the mirror. No small detail overlooked. Horror danced in the older gentleman causing his heartrate to increase tenfold. Merciless beats pound painfully against his ribcage like an iron sledge hammer and just when he thought he couldn't be more horrified, his eyes settled on the hooded figure observing him from the corner of the room- his hood is dipped down a tinge too far for Kenneth to see a face just sickly amused grin.

He thrashes about madly in the hopes of loosening his restraints and freeing himself, water spilling over the edges of the bath and soaking the tile beneath continuing to do so until exhaustion settled into aged limbs that felt they were composed of led all of a sudden. The hooded figure didn't bother stopping his efforts, just looked on with fiendish delight.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," the hooded man teased as he drew near, his accent disguising his disgust for something more beautiful than it truly was. "But, you already knew that. After all, that's why you left me into Radley all those years ago, wasn't it? Because I had sinned… or was it because of Mum's sins?"

The question sank in Kenneth like a rusty nail. When CeCe spun her story, she claimed he father had been determined to get rid of her because he couldn't handle the fact that his son wanted to be a girl which didn't sit well with him because it wasn't true. This was. This was the truth. It wasn't always the truth. He remembered when Charles was born, the pride, the happiness. But that only made it all the more painful when revelations of betrayal came to light: Charles was the product of an affair and was his stepson. Not flesh and blood. But by the time he learned of this indiscretion, Jessica was pregnant with Jason so he chose to stand by her. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to treat Charles in the same way. Every time he looked at the boy, he was reminded that Charles wasn't his… and he hated it.

Almost as much as Charles did. His behavioral episodes developed because he so desperately wanted his father's attention and the only way he seemed to get it was when he was acting out. Then Alison was born and his father looked at her like a star from the sky… looked at her the way he'd never look at him again. That's why he put her in the tub all those years ago. That's why Kenneth was in the tub staring at the man his son had become.

Finally the hooded man pulled it back revealing the familiar face beneath. Kenneth had seen the young doctor around Rosewood a number of times but looking at him now, it was as if he was seeing him for the first time- his mind making connections to the little boy he left in Radley. His features matured over the years but he'd of definitely made the connection had he been looking for it all this time… and his eyes. It didn't matter that colored contacts shifted them from piercing blue to a haunted hazel. There was this look in them, this animal inside always wanting desperately to escape. There was no forgetting that gaze, no erasing the way he looked through you instead of at you.

"I got some advice the other day: don't try to be something you're not," he started leaning against the edge of the tub, with a grin that teetered on the edge of insanity. "It's so simple, but the words had become so profound, resonating deeply. See, I'd spent so long desperately trying to be your son and it _never_ worked out for me. So I'm done. I'm cutting ties."

Before the words had fully permeated his thick skull, Wren slashed across his father's wrists with the razor he'd had hidden in his hand. Instantly red poured its way into the water, diffusing in the water until the crystal clear water became tainted.

"…And your wrists."

Ken's body crumpled down beneath the water before he even realized he was dead leaving Wren to his musings. There was a reason he chose to end his father's life in such a fashion. For Charles, any chance of approval from his father was lost the day he put Ali in the bathtub. It only made since to come full circle and his father's end was where it all began.

Under his breath, Wren let out a small chuckle as he climbed to his feet, his parting word barely above a whisper.

" _Poetic_."

xXx  
If you want more of this little fic,  
I'll clue you in on a little trick.  
All you gotta do,  
is take the time to review!  
xxx

AN: So, that was a very hard to write chapter but for the story to continue, I needed a reason for the girls to return to Rosewood and to depict Wren's psychosis. Thank you for your continued support


	4. Chapter Four: I Got You

Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a new beginning. The end is where we start from. An AU twist to the Big A Reveal slowly developing from a one-shot into a story of its own.

_.- -" "- -._

(… .(_\\.../_)… )

{ _"…=-… }- - - - - -{.. .-=…"_}

xTieOnWings  
presents  
-A Twist in Our Story  
A Pretty Little Liars Fan-Fiction

{_.."… … … … … … …""(_}

Chapter Four: I've Got You

It is supposed to be a god damn wake, but as he looks around all he sees is Rosewood's social elite gathered about engrossed in casual chitchat and acting as if his father's casket is no more than a piece of décor. It sickens him, how the so called mourners don't seem mournful in the least. Sure, they do their due diligence and share their condolences to him and his sister but there is never any sincerity in their delivery.

And what's worse, he can't blame them…

Kenneth DiLaurentis was nothing more than a ladder climbing, social elite, workaholic snob that was so engrossed in his search for his perfect image that he was willing to let his son think he was insane to cover up an imperfection. No, not his son, Jason notes realizing the imperfections in his thought process. He isn't Kenneth son. But he did raise him, so shouldn't he feel something… Anything?

That's when he realizes he does feel something, just not for Kenneth. For Allison. She is the only one amongst the sea of mourners actually grieving. Still daddy's little girl despite everything he'd done. Ali is in pain and that is at least one thing he can feel sorry about. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jason maneuvers through the sea of small talk and to his sister's side in front of the casket, gently nudging her to pull her from her trance.

"How you holding up?" he questions, eyes on Ali so he doesn't have to look at the empty shell that was Ken.

It is supposed to be a harmless question, but she doesn't take it as one. She turns to him, lips pinched into a thin line and her glare has such a burn behind it that he thinks she may actually have heat vision. "Not as good as you. I mean, seriously Jason, you could at least pretend to be sad that he's gone."

It is a hushed whisper but the tone is as venomous as they came. How losing their mother could bring them closer together and losing their father could tear them apart, he can't say he fully understood. All he knows is he hates it. Biting his lip, Jason turns his gaze to their father trying to will some sort of emotion to appease his irate sister. For the first twenty something years of his life, this man was his father. He should look at him and see something good. But the halo he used to see above his father's head had broken in two and been reimagined into horns long ago and after all the lies it is all Jason can see.

"I can't," he mutters beneath his breath, before meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry, Ali. I just - I can't."

He has apologized to his sister so many times recently that even he is getting tired of hearing it, but it is all he can muster before the urge to be anywhere but here becomes too much. He can't be strong for Ali. He can't even be strong for himself.

xXx

Rain, rain, is here to stay. Yet again, rain pours down on the sleepy little town, the dark sky dropping large beads of bone-chilling water. The soft pitter-patter of the rain that had been present in the background of the funeral parlor is now a harsh storm that rages over the town which he drunkenly stumbles through, the curtain of rain occasionally being cracked open by lightning and accompanied by its echoing drums. A rational mind would seek shelter in the hellacious storm but he's too intoxicated and too in his head to even worry about it.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, Jason polishes off the last bit of the scotch with a satisfying gulp. Over the years, Jason had dabbled in various "escapes" but scotch was by far his favorite of them all. No the high of weed, heroine, or even ecstasy could compare to the bliss he felt with the buzz of scotch. And he had no idea why…

But the onlooker did.

His little brother mirrored him in more ways than he thought possible… including his drink of choice. Their so-called father was also a scotch man dubbing it a true man's drink. The refined pallet of a man earmarked for success. And scotch was them trying to get closer to him, reaching for some deeper connection and common ground they never had. But this time Jason reaches too far toppling over and down onto the pavement. Jason had always had that Icarus-like quality, always reaching too far, wanting too much and inevitably crashing and burning.

He cared too much and Wren didn't care enough. He remembered at a young age learning the word sociopath and its definition and he remembered how much he liked it. Finally, a word to describe why he was different. Sure it wasn't the most flattering of definitions but it was something… he had answers. He knew exactly what he was. He didn't feel. He certainly didn't care. So what was stopping him from putting his car back into drive and leave Jason in the gutter?

Wren felt something thrillingly unfamiliar swirling inside of him, something he found almost as tempestuous as it was dangerous. It was such a foreign concept to him that it took a moment to realize what it actually was. There was a piece of him that _cared_ about the fate of his younger brother. He mulled over the feeling and wondered if he should act on it- weighing the intensity within and wondering if it hinted at a potential for greatness…or something devastatingly destructive. And it was only as he realized that he wasn't sure which way the scales tipped, that he felt alive again. Since the frame up job of CeCe Drake and murdering his "father", he'd felt like a zombie, just going through the motions. No challenge. No thrill. Nothing. And whatever this was. It was something.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jason climbed out of his car and pulled up his hood tight in a feeble attempt to conceal himself from the hellacious downpour. Chills bunched over his flesh as he neared his brother adding to the exhilaration surging within as he closed the distance between him and his younger brother. Kneeling down he surveyed his little brother squinting to make sure that his chest was still rising and falling through the curtain of rain and felt relief when he saw that Jason was still alive. Relief. He never gave a damn about the well-being of others. He was them all as dolls, mere puppets for his amusement but looking down at his little brother, Wren felt something he hadn't in decades.

Human.

With a gentleness he used with his patients, Wren gingerly picked up his brother and climbed to his feet cradling Jason to his chest. Given his hard muscled form, long legs, and height, it proved to be a difficult task but Jason was in no condition to stand on his own two feet. Glazed blue eyes flicker open in an intoxicated haze and narrow in on Wren. He looked to Wren like a little child who has a boo-boo or illness and they want their parents to make it all better.

"S'alright, little brother. I've got you," Wren comforted and Jason closed his eyes again. "I got you."

End of Chapter Four


End file.
